


One Less Bridge to Burn

by MK_Yujji



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, jaskier is still bitter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:20:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23575291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MK_Yujji/pseuds/MK_Yujji
Summary: Geralt's been a little too busy since the dragon hunt to think about Jaskier, but letting so much time go by may have been a mistake.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 66





	One Less Bridge to Burn

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place 5 years after episode 6: Rare Species. Assumes that the fall of Cintra and Geralt finding Ciri took place somewhere in between.

There weren’t many situations when a sword couldn’t get a Witcher what he needs, but they did exist. Geralt wouldn’t normally put forth the effort, but when Yennefer had insinuated that there might be a potential Nilfgaard plot behind the sudden influx of monsters encroaching on the mountains where he and Ciri had been staying in Kaer Morhen, he hadn’t been able to take the chance that she was wrong or couldn’t handle it. Ciri’s protection was more important than a little discomfort of being more circumvent.

And Yennefer’s plan had the best chance of success. 

The hardest part, of course, was finding a way in that wouldn’t rouse suspicion . 

“Look, if you want to do this quietly, then we need someone that can give us the impression of legitimacy, a reason to be inside. I’m a bit persona non grata in these parts,” Yennefer said, waving away the questions brewing in Geralt’s face. “Surely in all your years you’ve made _some_ noble contacts.”

“I’m a _Witcher_ , Yen. People aren’t exactly lining the streets to welcome me with open arms.”

“But it’s better now, yes? Since all that Toss the coin, nonsense?”

Geralt hated to admit it, but Jaskier’s attempts to improve his image with the common folk had done some good. He hadn’t been stoned out of a town just for the color of his eyes in years. “Maybe, but-”

She wasn’t listening to him, though, and he had to shift back to keep from being hit in the face by her flapping hand.

“Hush…Speaking of Jaskier, isn’t that him over there?”

Following the length of her arm to see what had caught her attention, Geralt was a bit taken aback to see that she was right. It was indeed Jaskier.

The bard was dressed in rich blues and golds as he walked towards the manor entrance with a pair of equally richly dressed noblemen, no lute in sight. With any luck, that meant they wouldn’t be subjected to his particular brand of entertainment once they were inside. Geralt wasn’t sure if he could deal with being forced to listen to any embellished tales of past deeds for an entire evening.

At least it was a quick way in, though. Jaskier didn’t usually have such impeccable timing, but Geralt had been rethinking his stance on destiny ever since he and Ciri had stumbled on each other randomly in the woods.

“Jaskier-”

A sword blocked his path before he could get close enough to be heard. “Stop there. The feast is invitation only.”

“I simply need to speak to my friend there,” Geralt forced himself to stay polite and unthreatening. 

“Right. Of course. Friends,” the guard smirked. “I’m certain Lord Pankratz will be more than happy to confirm that.”

Pankratz…. Geralt didn’t know anyone named Pankratz. 

“Lord Pankratz?!” The guard called, catching the attention of the trio of well dressed men. 

There was a moment when Jaskier’s expression seemed to tighten in unhappy recognition, but it slid off his face quickly enough and he was once more the jovial dandy Geralt was familiar with. He and his companions sauntered over to the guard. “How can I be of service, my good man?”

“Witcher here says he needs to talk to you… That he’s your friend.”

Jaskier burst out laughing at that, but it was nothing like the bard’s usual joyful laughter. This was bitter and approaching hysterical, especially when he couldn’t quite get ahold of himself and had to lean against one of the others to keep his balance. “Friends? With a Witcher?”

Tears were leaking from his eyes, he was laughing so hard.

“I thought it unlikely, sir, but figured it couldn’t hurt to check. I apologize for disturbing your evening, my lord.” The guard looked more uneasy than he had stopping Geralt and Yennefer. It made Geralt wonder just what kind of pull the bard had here, that people were concerned about bothering him and calling him lord.

“No, no, of course you should always check these things,” Jaskier replied as he finally got control of himself. In fact, he was suddenly more serious than Geralt was used to seeing him outside of life and death situations. “But really, witchers don’t have friends. Everyone knows that. And a Witcher would be the first to say so. Frequently. Loudly. In as many awful ways as they can think of.” He paused and straightened to his full height. He was still shorter than Geralt, but not by as much as one would think. There was a dark look in his eyes. “At best they have acquaintances that they treat horribly before blaming them for every awful thing ever and abandoning them to be dragon bait on mountainsides, never to bother with again until they have something he needs. Now that… _that_ sounds like a Witcher’s idea of friendship.”

Everyone was still as Jaskier’s voice dropped to a level of frigid rage Geralt had never heard in it before. Even Yennefer was staring at them with wide eyes and she wasn’t someone easily impressed by the anger of another.

“Jaskier…” 

“So no,” Jaskier interrupted, still speaking to the guard despite never taking his eyes off of Geralt. “He’s not my friend, nor I his. In fact, I suggest you increase the guard for tonight. These two are clearly trouble seeking rabble. The Countess would be horribly upset if anything spoiled her party.”

The guard nodded sharply. “Of course, my lord. It will be done.”

Jaskier finally broke his stare down with Geralt and turned to beam at the guard. “Good man. I’ll be sure to put in a good word with the Countess. She deserves to know what excellent care her guards are showing. What’s your name?”

“Thank you, Lord Pankratz. It’s um… Deegan, sir. Callum Deegan.”

“No, thank _you_ Mr. Deegan. Thank you, indeed, for doing such a marvelous job.” Then he spun around and wrapped an arm around each of his companions shoulders. “Now, my friends, enough of this unpleasantness. There’s a feast waiting for us!”

They were gone a moment later and Jaskier never looked back.

The guard, Deegan, turned back and made a shooing motion. “There you have it. You’ve no friends here, Witcher. Off you go or else it’ll be the dungeon for you.”

“No need to be hasty, we’ll just be on our way,” Yennefer interjected, claws digging into Geralt’s arm as she began dragging him away.

Once they were around a corner and out of sight, she smacked him, hard. “Really, Geralt? When you fuck up you don’t do half-measures, do you?”

“I didn’t-” He cut himself off. Nothing Jaskier had said had been a lie, after all. He wouldn’t say that he’d treated Jaskier _horribly_ , but the rest? He couldn’t deny any of that. “I didn’t think he’d still be angry.”

Yennefer pinched the bridge of her nose and took a deep breath. “And have you - at any point in the last five years since that blasted dragon hunt - made any attempt to find him and apologize?”

His silence always did speak louder than any words he could find. 

She hit him again. “Way to burn the most useful bridge you’ve probably ever accidentally found yourself with in your life, you fucking imbecile. And apparently doing it so thoroughly that it’ll happily crush you in the rubble! Now we’re definitely not going to be able to get in there any time soon.” One last whack, harder than the other two and with the zap of magic behind it. “Now go do something useful like getting supplies or talking to your damned horse while I try to figure something else out.”

He watched her storm off, wanting to follow, but knowing it’d just earn him another whack to the head. Once she was out of sight, he sighed and decided that he really wasn’t going to be much help and he might as well do as she’d said.

Trudging back through town to the stables where they’d left Roach and Yen’s horse, Geralt frowned at the memory of Jaskier’s words, both those from now and those from decades past.

It seemed impossible that five years had passed since they’d parted ways, but he’d never been the best at keeping track of the years. Certain things lingered, fresh as the day they’d happened, but most things faded easily enough. 

He’d been angry on the mountain and it had perhaps been a bit uncalled for to snap at Jaskier, but the bard was clinically incapable of holding a grudge for any length of time. It had honestly never occurred to Geralt that they wouldn’t simply fall back into each other’s company as they had over the years. 

More than twenty years of almost aggressive friendliness from the bard and Geralt had never had any reason to think Jaskier knew how to be any other way.

Five years of absence and it wasn’t until now that he felt the bard shaped hole in his life. 

Funny how it wasn’t as welcome as he’d always imagined.

_fin_

**Author's Note:**

> I'm pretty universally a Geralt/Jaskier fan, but I just really, really needed a fic where Jaskier didn't go crawling back to Geralt. Especially a Geralt who doesn't apologize. And Jaskier is a feral little bastard, okay? Also petty? His attempt at a Djinn wish, anyone?
> 
> Now that it's out of my system, I can go back to finishing much happier Witcher fics. ^_^


End file.
